The Stop Sign

📅 Published on May 11, 2021

“The Stop Sign”

Written by Jason Calzadilla
Edited by Craig Groshek and N.M. Brown
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available

ESTIMATED READING TIME — 8 minutes

Rating: 8.33/10. From 6 votes.
Please wait...

It was a late July night, and I once again found myself basking in the glow of my TV screen, a controller in one hand and a beer in the other. Empty pizza boxes, chip bags, and various other discarded remnants surrounded me as I fought battle after battle in the latest RPG I had picked up a few days prior. As a depressed loner with no friends, most of my nights were spent this way. To be blunt, I hated myself. I hated my shitty convenience store cashier job, and I hated my sad excuse for a life. My whole existence revolved around working at a job I despised and coming home to vigorously escape my reality. It was a tragic routine but one that allowed me the luxury of not having to face the realization that my life was going nowhere.

After a few hours had passed and I was good and intoxicated, I headed outside to the landing to smoke a cigarette. It was a bad habit, I know, but when you don’t have much to live for, the dangers of cigarettes seem frivolous and unimportant. I had just finished lighting up when I instantly noticed something strange. The stop sign usually posted at the intersection next to my apartment building had moved. I’ve lived in this apartment complex for over five years. And I tell you, the same red, octagonal stop sign that had always been next to the intersection now sat on the sidewalk adjacent to the building. A laugh escaped from my mouth as I realized it must’ve been some kind of prank. I didn’t know much about the law, but I knew enough to know that moving a stop sign was illegal and whoever had moved it was going to get their ass thrown in jail if they were caught.

But whatever, it wasn’t my problem. Someone would move it back eventually, I thought as I took a drag from my cigarette. After gaming for another hour, I decided to call it a night and get to bed. I had to be up early for work the next day, and although I was dreading it, I hated feeling tired on the job.

I awoke in the morning feeling strangely nervous, like a wave of anxiety had suddenly washed over me. I laid on my air mattress, staring up at the water stains on the ceiling as I thought about how my life wasn’t going the way I wanted it to go. I remembered how I used to have goals and ambition. At one time in my life, I wanted to be a veterinarian because of my love for animals. I even went to college for it, but a few missed classes here and a few bad grades there, and all of a sudden, I found myself dropping out. Now I’m a single, thirty-nine-year-old college drop-out who spends his free time trying to escape reality through video games and alcohol. Was I ever going to get my shit together and pursue something meaningful in my life? Or was I doomed to slowly wither into oblivion, having never come close to my true potential as a human being? I could feel my air mattress deflate a bit as I laid there, deciding if I should even bother going in to work. I thought about just getting into my car and driving somewhere far away. Somewhere where I could start over and reignite the passion I once felt for life.

With a defeated sigh, I got up to get ready for work.

I was on the patio having a smoke before heading off when I noticed that the stop sign I had seen on the sidewalk the night before was gone. Figuring someone had moved it back to its rightful place, I put out my cigarette and began descending the stairs to my car. I was just about at the bottom of the stairs when I looked up and was suddenly taken aback. The stop sign was now posted at the bottom of the stairs. Slowly walking over to it, I saw that it stood firmly in the concrete. The signpost didn’t even budge when I shook it as if whoever put it there had used some impressively fast-drying cement.

If this was a prank, then someone had gone to great lengths to pull it off. A smile formed on my face as I contemplated the absolute absurdity of it. Whoever was going to have to chisel this out of the concrete was probably going to be super pissed. But, again, it wasn’t my problem. I walked to my car, smiling and shaking my head. Maybe whoever did it was caught on camera. Or maybe not. At any rate, I was sure it would be in a different spot by the time I got back.

Work was incredibly shitty that day. There seemed to be an unusually high amount of irate customers that would yell at me for stupid reasons like how we didn’t carry a specific brand of potato chips or how we were out of their favorite scratcher. The day dragged on painfully. By the end of my shift, I was so ready to get back to my apartment to roam through the hills and forests of my game while drinking myself into a coma.

The dim light in the sky was quickly fading to night as I pulled up to my apartment building. I sat for a few minutes, finishing a cigarette, before exiting my car and making my way over to the stairs leading up to my apartment. Immediately, I noticed that the stop sign that had been there earlier was gone. I looked to see if it had left a hole in the concrete in the spot where it last stood, but, to my surprise, it hadn’t. The concrete was completely smooth, leaving no trace that the stop sign had ever been there. I looked over to see if it was back in its rightful place next to the intersection, but it wasn’t. Something about this situation was beginning to make me feel uneasy. That feeling intensified a hundredfold when I made my way to the top of the stairs to see the stop sign posted directly in front of my unit’s door. Why the fuck was it there, I thought as I walked slowly over to it. As before, I tried to pick it up, and once again, I couldn’t. It was stuck firmly into the concrete as if it had been there since the building’s construction.

I stood staring at the stop sign as questions began flooding my mind. Why did someone put it in front of my door? Was it put there at random, or was someone deliberately targeting me? If so, why? I didn’t know enough people to have enemies. Did I inadvertently anger one of my neighbors? Why would someone do something this petty as revenge? The more I thought about it, the more the whole situation started to piss me off. After a bad day at work, I didn’t want to deal with this shit. Nevertheless, whoever put it there had made it my problem, and it was now my responsibility to do something about it. Determined not to let it ruin my night, I decided to tell the apartment manager about it in the morning before work.

I spent the rest of the night getting drunk on cheap beer and giving my thumbs an intense workout. All the while, I couldn’t stop thinking about the stop sign. I kept catching myself glancing at the door as if I could sense the stop sign taunting me on the other side of it. I’d bet whoever had put it there was having a good time at my expense. There was probably more than one of them, maybe even a whole group of them, mocking me and talking about what a fucking loser I was. I could imagine their sinister grins as they laughed at how I was so lowly and pathetic that they could do something as ridiculous as put a stop sign in front of my door, and there was nothing I could do about it. Oh, how they must’ve been delighting in my helplessness, I thought as I gritted my teeth. These thoughts festered in my brain, fueled by an ever-increasing flow of alcohol. Eventually, my inebriation reached an intensity so great that the thoughts began to boil over until they spilled into action. Before I knew it, I’d reached into my closet to retrieve the baseball bat I kept for protection and marched with purpose towards the door. I stopped and took a long swig of beer before reaching for the door handle, ready to smash the stop sign and anybody that got in my way into a pulp. I would show them that they couldn’t mess with me so quickly and that I was willing to do something about it. With my bat raised high into the air, I flung the door open ready to strike, when my heart suddenly plummeted into my stomach. The stop sign was gone.

I spent the next few hours gaming until my eyes glazed over and drinking until the events of the day became a hazy, muddled blur in my mind. I didn’t want to think about anything more that night. Not about the stop sign, not about anything. I would surely pay for it the next day at work when I had to nurse a hangover the size of an elephant, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to forget all about that night’s events. At some point, I must have found my way onto my air mattress and passed out because the next thing I remember was waking up screaming in agony.

I looked in horror to see something metal jutting out from my lower abdomen. The holey pattern on the long metal beam looked familiar, and before my eyes gazed upwards to confirm what it was, I already knew. It was the stop sign. Its post had impaled my body completely through like a shish kebab. I tried desperately to pull it out, but I couldn’t move it. It had gone straight through my now deflated mattress and was stuck firmly into the floor. Blood poured from the wound, and I knew that if I didn’t get help quickly, I would bleed to death. Luckily, my phone was within arm’s reach, so I grabbed it and frantically dialed 911. The last thing I remember before blacking out was the sound of the operator as I quickly rattled off my address.

I awoke in a hospital bed with a doctor standing at my side. After asking me a few routine questions, he told me how lucky I was to have survived. He then went on to explain how I got there. An ambulance and police arrived at my apartment within minutes after my call. The police had to bust down my door when I didn’t respond to their knocks. They found me in a pool of blood, passed out and barely alive. He said I was lucky because whatever caused my wound had missed all of my vital organs, and if I had waited even a minute longer to call for help, I would’ve died. The doctor then asked me if I knew what had caused my injury. But when I asked if anyone had seen the stop sign, he looked at me confused. He assured me that nothing of that nature was found at the scene. I knew he wouldn’t believe me if I told him what I had experienced, so I told him that I must have fallen onto something but didn’t remember what it was.

It’s been two days since I was released from the hospital, after being there for almost a week. I didn’t want to come back to my apartment, but I don’t have any family or friends to stay with, so I didn’t know where else to go. The whole ordeal has left me terrified, and I haven’t slept since I got back. I lost my job for no-call-no-show, but I don’t really care. I’ll worry about getting another one later. For now, I need to focus on trying to figure out why that stop sign attacked me. Did a demon possess it? Was it a glitch in the matrix? Was it some warning from the universe? Fueled by coffee and nicotine, I’ve been searching the internet nonstop for any hint of explanation. I won’t give up until I find a way to stop it. I don’t have a choice. Nobody would believe me if I told them. They would think I was crazy. Whether I like it or not, I’m entirely on my own with this, and I need to figure something out fast. Because a few minutes ago, I looked out my window and saw a stop sign in a place where a stop sign shouldn’t be. I fear that it is after me again, and next time… it might not miss a vital organ.

Rating: 8.33/10. From 6 votes.
Please wait...


🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available


Written by Jason Calzadilla
Edited by Craig Groshek and N.M. Brown
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

🔔 More stories from author: Jason Calzadilla


Publisher's Notes: N/A

Author's Notes: N/A

More Stories from Author Jason Calzadilla:

No posts found.

Related Stories:

No posts found.

You Might Also Enjoy:

Paper, Platinum, Stone
Average Rating:
10

Paper, Platinum, Stone

Slow Clap
Average Rating:
9.88

Slow Clap

The Scarecrow’s Mausoleum
Average Rating:
10

The Scarecrow’s Mausoleum

Recommended Reading:

Return of the Living
Pages of Dust: Volume 4
Counting Corpses: A Gripping Serial Killers Thriller (Harry Cross Book 1)
Night of the Living Trekkies

Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

Subscribe
Notify of
guest
0 Comments
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
Skip to content